What Have You Done?
by c.92
Summary: Who is she? And who are the other characters in this story? What has she done to feel like this? One shot


'Sit!' he ordered her.

'P-p-please,' she stammered in between her sobs.

He pulled out his wand. 'Sit,' he said again. She remained where she was, trying to speak through her tears.

He flicked his wand, and painfully she sat on the old bench. Her removed his wand

'Now do what I said.'

'P-p-please, I d-d-don't want t-t-to –' She screamed. The pain was intense. It felt like a blazing hot fire. Her head jerked violently. Uncontrollably. He hair was thrown around like a lion's mane. Hair went into her eyes and mouth. Strands stuck to her tear-strained face as she continued to fling her head around. She clenched her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. Deeper and deeper they cut, until she felt a warm liquid ooze out onto her skin.

That – fire? Knife? – pain cut deeper and deeper. It was burning. It felt like it was about to burn up and die. Whatever he was using to torture he cut a nerve. She screamed louder. She knew no-one could hear her – she saw the man cast a silencing charm around the room – but still she yelled for help, screaming for anyone to save her, begging for mercy.

Just as she thought that death had finally come over her, the pain softened – only a little. She relaxed her muscles slightly, and her breathing rate lowered.

'Tell no-one of this,' he said in his cruel, cold voice. 'Some of my friends will come to see you soon. I, myself will come for you again, some day. You are – a precious weapon.' He left the room, walking in long strides, without looking back, without any remorse.

She collapsed on the hard stone floor.

She awoke, shivering. The moonlight streamed brightly though the tiny vent in the far corner. She gazed around the darkened room, tying to remember why she was alone in this … place. She wrapped her cloak around her body. Through the simple process, she touched a spot on her blue skin.

Fire burned up through her body, and she felt her head about to explode. She gritted her teeth, desperately trying not to disturb the eerie silence.

Pictures flashed though her head. A man tying her up. The same man forcing her though a steel door. That man –'

She couldn't bear it. She crawled to the closest corner of the room, the on under the window. At least she wouldn't be as cold when morning came.

She hugged her knees and cried herself back to sleep.

When she awoke this time, it was because of the steel door getting pushed opened, the bottom scraping against the rough stone floor.

Her hopes of being found by the police – Muggle law-keepers – plummeted when she saw the face of her unwelcome visitor. This person was not the same person as the person from last night, but she knew that this man was also an enemy.

'Morning,' he said brightly, though it didn't reach his eyes. His voice echoed continuously around the room. He half strutted, half walked toward the prisoner. He sat down on he floor next to her, careful not to lean on the dirty wall. His Muggle attire was black, but spotless. 'How do you feel?'

Her body tensed as another body sat beside her. She had just endured physical pain, that had lasted for a whole night, and she was going to live with the psychological version of that pain until the day she died. What did he wasn't as an answer? 'I'm fine,' she lied. 'What do you want?' she asked coldly.

He rand his hand though his white blonde hair and finally leaned back on the wall. He dropped his and on his outstretched lag and rested his other elbow on his propped-up knee. 'I've just come to tell you that breakfast is ready. Toast, bacon and eggs, and a glass of juice or milk.'

If her faced showed that she was surprised, then it was ignored. 'Is that it?'

'Well, I suppose I could go and make more…'

'I meant, do you have anything else to tell me?'

He softly bounced his head from side to side, as if trying to remember. He shook his head. 'Nup. So you having breaky or not?'

She looked down to her right, then her eyes darted back forward. 'No.'

'You need all the minerals, vitamins and whatever else they have in breakfast foods,' he sighed.

I'd rather starve to death than accept any food or drink from you cowards of –'

'You did _not_ just call us cowards.' He was now at his feet, his icy grey eyes glaring.

She now felt a little braver, and also stood up. 'I just did.' She slapped the blonde's cheek.

His right hand immediately flexed for his wand, and his left hand cupped his beet red cheek. His wand was directed straight at the young lady's heart.

If she was going to die, she was going to die nobly. She held her head high and stared directly into the eye of her would-to-be murderer.

He faulted, and lowered his wand. He thrust it back into his pocket and stalked out

That night the blonde visited her again and told the red-eyed girl that the containment enchantment had been lifted and she was free to leave, and to go back to her friends and family for the moment.

'Though, I doubt who will.' His eyes lingered on her torn sleeves.

He was right. She couldn't go back to those who loved – and hopefully still did love – her. Not with that –

She transfigured her torn robes into a set of muggle clothes: A short sleeve white blouse under a thin black blazer, and a pair of black trousers. She tied her messy hair into a pony tail and wiped her eyes.

She looked out the window. It was dusk. Good. She would just look like any ordinary person going home from an ordinary day at work.

She steeped out of the building into a dark alleyway. Quickly, she strode down it, heading toward the lights of the busy street in front. As she joined the crowd, she tried to look as if she was late home. She blended in with the people of London quite easily.

She visited a café and ordered a cup of coffee. Sipping the hot drink, she thought about what she was going to do with her life. The image of the empty room floated back into her head, and she ran to the rest rooms.

In there, she cried again. It had happened so fast. It wasn't meant to be like this. What did she do wrong? When did she ask for this – scar? It cut her. It cut her really deep. What would her parents think? What would her friends say? What would the greatest wizard of all time have done? She shook her head.

The greatest wizard was dead. Dead because of one person. And that person needed to die. He needed to be killed. Killed because of what he did to the greatest wizard ever. What he did to innocent Muggles. What he did to witches and wizards. What he did to himself. What he did to her.

She knew where to go now.

She took her coat off and folded it neatly and placed it gently on her arm, careful not to crease it. She pressed her arm to her stomach and apparated to a door with Wellington boots all around it. She smiled weakly at the other, more happier, memories that came flooding back to her, but she simply could not remove the events that had happened to her last night, away.

She just couldn't it was a terrifying experience. She never thought that it would happened to her. Her! One who strongly opposed all Dark Arts, wizards and anything to do with evil magic.

She raised her hand and rapped on the door with her knuckles.

'I'll get it!' said a very familiar voice.

'I'll come with you,' said another voice that made her relax.

'Just hang on a second boys,' came another, stern, but kind voice, 'what did we talk about?'

Her heart sank. Of course! How could she have been stupid and turn up at a doorstep of a family that she hadn't made contact with since – for a while, especially during these times. Feeling dejected, she turned around to leave.

'Do we know you?' a voice floated from the other side.

'Yes, you do!'

'Which school did you attend?'

'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

'Which school did we go to?'

'Hogwarts.'

'According to our grandfather clock, tell us exactly where the hands are.'

A glance at her watch said that it was a quarter past eight. She was about to speak when a thought struck her. This question was far too easy – too simple – if eight-fifteen was the answer. No it couldn't be. She strained her memories, trying to go back in time…

'Mortal peril,' she whispered.

There was a slight hesitation, but the door opened a fraction to reveal set of brown eyes. She strained a smile.

'Merlin's Beard!'

The door opened wide and she stepped nervously inside while being showered with hugs and exclamations.

Her coat was taken from her to hang up, as she greeted her friends. Unexpectedly, someone grabbed her arm. She turned to look at the offender.

'_Hermione!_' Ron gasped.

All eyes followed Ron's gaze, to Hermione's left forearm.

'What have you _done?_'

**A/N**

**Hey, I TOTALLY object to this EVER EVER EVER happening, so forgive me. I just wrote this because...well, i suppose heaps of people are waiting for my other major sotry to hurry up and update (sorry, the FBI and Australian Police Force are still looking for the culprit who stole my USB and misplaced it), so i decided to write this. I wrote this on Saturday because i was feeling bored. Yeah, i know, 'tis a bit wierd, but that's me.**


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